When Abi became a Holmes
by abiholmes97
Summary: The story of my O.C -Abigail- and how she met Sherlock Holmes. Told from her P.O.V


**When Abigail became a Holmes.**

"I was born on November 18 1997 to Karen and Antony McNeish.  
I then lived a normal and happy childhood in a flat on the outskirts of London. My parents worked at Canary Wharf- that is where they met- office romance they called it! My school was also in the heart of London so we, as a family, took the tube in everyday like millions of others.  
I remember the day it was announced that we would be hosting the Olympics. We had been there-outside Buckingham Palace when it was announced. We had the day off school and mum and dad managed to get the day off work. It was such a great day. The atmosphere was high and it was sunny and brilliant and just fantastic. We had dinner out that night and got back so late that I had fallen asleep on the tube. It was probably one of the best days out I have probably had and I didn't know it would be our last as a family.  
The morning of July 7th dawned sunny and normal. we didn't expect anything to happen but then again neither did the whole country. We were running late as usual.  
First stop was school. We ran to the gates and got their just as the bell went. Mum and dad gave me a hug and a kiss goodbye like normal and I waved them off. That was the last time I ever saw my parents.  
I ran to class and sat down next to my best friend, Sally. (note her name it will come up later)  
The morning started off normally. We had maths which I remembered hating and not paying attention to. And then, at about 10 to 10 we heard it. A massive explosion. Like fireworks night only closer, much closer. The  
ground shook so hard that we couldn't stand up. We all dived under the tables, screaming. It was like hell had broken loose.  
After what seemed like an eternity, we all had to make our way to the school hall. we still had no idea what it was but we were told that our parents were coming to collect us.  
I sat and waited for my name to be read out but it wasn't. I remember hugging Sally and she told me it would all be ok. I didn't see her again for the next 8 years. When the whole hall had emptied, it was just me left. I wasn't worried or anything... my parents usually couldn't collect me from school as they were busy. I wish now that I had worried. Instead our housekeeper/cook/cleaner came for me and took me home. We couldn't go by tube or bus which I thought was odd and another thing, the housekeepers grip was firm and uncomfortable and we were walking really quickly like she was afraid something would happen. In the end we had to get a cab.  
We got home and we had a drink when the phone rang. Mrs Jones answered it and her face went the colour of snow. When she put the phone down, she looked at me and said that we had to go to Scotland Yard. That was when the panic set in. Everyone knew what Scotland Yard was...  
When we got there, a man called Anderson showed us to a room where we sat and waited. We were then greeted by a Detective Inspector called Lestrade, I think it was. And it all went wrong.  
He told me that there had been 4 bombings in London that morning; 3 on the tube and 1 on a bus. He said that my parents had been on the last tube to be hit, right near the bomber. He said they were dead.  
Mrs Jones hugged me and said that they loved me dearly and I was to never forget them.  
Then I ended up in the foster care system as my parents had had no living relatives in the country.  
I spent a long time in the system, well 6 years at least, in and out of temporary homes living with all sorts of families, moving from school to school, house to house. I had grown sick of it.  
By the time I was 14/15, I was back in the care home and it would have been my mum's birthday… It was April 12 and I was playing her favourite song on the violin and I was in black and I guess most people would be.  
I heard the doorbell go but thought nothing of it; it goes all the time here mainly for people interested in the little ones.  
Then what amazed me was, as I was playing the violin, I heard the pounding of footsteps up the stairs and someone yelling. They stopped outside my door and the door clicked open but I hadn't noticed that yet so I carried on playing my song, which happened to be my mum's old favourite.  
When I had finished, I found it odd to hear applause, I mean everyone at the care home knew to let me be by myself on these 3 days of the year; 12 April, 7 July and 4 November.  
The stranger was a handsome fellow, with dark hair like a horse and brilliantly blue eyes. He was tall and wore a long coat and scarf. He smiled and said "Nice playing. Special occasion?" He then looked me up and down and corrected himself, "Oh… I see. Not so special then…"  
I was taken aback. How could he know what today was; what it meant to me? "I'm sorry, who are you?"  
He smiled again and held his hand out "I'm Holmes, Sherlock Holmes"  
I shook it and replied "Abigail, Mr Holmes, Abigail McNeish."  
"Just Sherlock, please" I nodded in response.  
"So tell me, Abigail, when did your mother die?"  
I stared at him… "How…How did you know that?"  
"Well going by your choice of attire, colour and tempo of your song in choice, it was a lucky guess. Also, your eyes are red and puffy, so you've been crying recently, today probably which suggests it has a great emotional importance to you." He explained.  
"Wow. Um…" I sighed… "This is hard. I've never told anyone this before…"  
Sherlock interrupted, "It's ok… I understand… Maybe I could take you out on a day trip and you can tell me in your own time."  
I stood stunned.  
"Um… yeah. Sounds like a plan" I smiled. "Although not today…"  
He winked at me. "Of course" And with that he left.  
I smiled to myself. "Thanks Mum!" I whispered and went back to playing my violin.

It turns out that Mr Holmes was planning to take me out on a day trip next Monday. I was getting ready when someone knocked on my door. It was my care worker, Mandy. She had a round, soft face, blue eyes and golden hair which she always wore in a plait. She smiled and said "Abigail, he's here."  
I smiled back, grabbed my bag and left the room.

We went to her office, where sure enough Mr Holmes was sat in an arm chair talking about tobacco ash for some reason. I walked in and he stopped.  
"Ah. Abigail." He smiled and offered his hand. I shook it and replied "Mr Holmes, good to see you."  
"Please, Abigail, call me Sherlock"  
I smiled.  
"Glad to see you have a more cheerful outfit on today"  
I was wearing an old pair of jeans, a blue t-shirt, trainers and a black cardigan. I smiled at his comment but didn't reply.  
"We need her back but 9pm at the latest and if you have enjoyed today then we can talk about fostering."  
"I'll make sure she is back on time and don't worry Mandy, she'll have the time of her life."  
And with that we left.

We walked for about 5 minutes in silence before he grabbed a taxi.  
"Baker Street please"  
"Is that where you live?" I asked  
"Yes" He paused for a minute. "I have a friend whom shares it with me.. Is that ok?"  
"Well, yes."  
"Good"  
We sat in silence again.  
"My parents were killed in the July bombings 2007" I blurted out.  
"Ah. I thought it was something like that. How old were you?"  
"7 nearly 8"  
"Yes. That would explain why it pains you so much"  
I didn't reply.

The cab pulled up against an old building and I guessed this was where he lived.  
"221B Baker Street" He said, pushing the door open.  
Inside was a wide hallway with stairs leading upwards. Down the passage was was another door and I wondered whether that was his flat.  
"Mrs Hudson!" He yelled.  
I stared at him, wondering why he had yelled this woman's name, then I heard the shuffling of slippers and the door at the end of the hall opened. An old lady stepped out of the flat, looked at me and then looked at Mr Holmes.  
"Mrs Hudson…" He went over and gave her a kiss on the cheek as if they were old friends. "Mrs Hudson, meet Abigail McNeish."  
I smiled and said, "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs Hudson"  
"And you." She replied.  
"We'll see you later" Mr Holmes said and led me up the stairs, which were narrow and steep, to the first landing. I could hear the faint murmer of voices inside and I turned to Sherlock, "I thought you only had one flat mate."  
"I do."  
"Then why can I hear to voices?"  
"Either his daughter is staying or my dear brother and nephew have come to pay a visit..."  
"Wait… Your brother?"  
"Yes"  
"Ok then" And he pushed the door open.

The interior of Baker Street was beautiful. It felt as though I was stepping back in time. There was a massive fireplace in the heart of the lounge, surrounded by chairs. I noticed that a Cluedo board was pinned by a knife to the wall and there was a skull on the mantelpiece.  
"Well, what do you think?" Asked Mr Holmes  
"It's beautiful" I whispered  
"You think so?"  
I nodded in reply.

"Um… Sherlock?" Came the voice of one of the people occupying the chairs by the fire. "Who is this?"  
" Oh yes, sorry John" He replied "This is Abigail and she is a foster child."  
"Oh… It's um very nice to meet you Abigail." He stood up and offered me his hand "I'm Dr John Watson"  
He looked to be in his mid-30s, with slightly greying hair. He wore a shirt with a woollen waist coat type thing and jeans.  
"Nice to meet you Doctor." I replied shaking his hand.  
"Please, just call me John"

A siren wailed outside the flat and Sherlock went to the window. He groaned and a minute later, a man in his early forties and wearing a similar coat to Sherlock's was stood in the doorway.  
"Not today Lestrade… Can't you see I am busy?"  
Lestrade… I thought to myself… Now why does that name sound familiar?  
"Oh…" He replied.  
"I know who you are!" I exclaimed. "You told me my parents had been killed on the tube all those years ago!"  
"Was I?"  
"Yeah. My housekeeper had received a phone call asking us to come to Scotland Yard and when we arrived you told me that my parents had been blown up. It was the worst day of my life. Do you think I would forget it in a hurry?"  
"Oh Christ! Now I remember! Abigail McNeish wasn't it? Yes… The number of those messages we had to deliver that day… I'm so sorry about it Abigail, honestly I am. I have two kids of my own and honestly I cannot imagine what you have to be going through…"  
"That's kind of you sir. May I ask what… what you kids names are?  
"Sure…" He replied taking a seat. "Sally and John… known as Johnny so as not to get confused with the doc here…" He laughed quite a deep laugh.  
"Lestrade, I've told you… I don't mind you calling me Watson if it's any easier…"  
"Nonsense!" He boomed. "The boy's grown accustomed to it"  
"Sally…" I muttered. "Did she go to a primary school on the outskirts of London?"  
"Yes… How would you know that?"  
"Because we used to be best friends before 7/7"

A car door slammed outside and Sherlock sighed and muttered "Here we go" I looked at him, puzzled. Another man, this time in a police uniform, stood where Lestrade had a few moments ago. He was shorter and had brown hair, eyes and was sporting a beard. He also had glasses.  
"Lestrade…" He had a nasly voice, very brittle. "Lestrade what are you doing?"  
"What does it look like Anderson?"  
"Sitting down on the job?"  
"Nope… Having a chat with an old friend…"  
"Him… your friend?"  
"No… her…" And he pointed at me…  
"Oh…"  
"Anderson… I'm having the rest of the afternoon off… I', sticking around here…. Your incharge"  
Sherlock snorted.  
"And I'll have none of that Sherlock"  
"What? It has nothing to do with me!"  
And with that Anderson left and the police sirens wailed off into the distance…

"Dad… Are you ever going to introduce me or am I invisible?"  
I spun around where the voice came from. A girl dressed from head to toe in black with black hair and had 2 piecing's in each ear  
"Oh yes sorry. This is my daughter Emily."  
"Nice to meet you!" I said smiling.  
"Likewise…" She replied unsmiling but I felt the warmness in her reply.  
Lestrade and Watson where chatting away in the background and I had a funny feeling it was about me. Still I was used to this so I focused my attention on the Watson's.  
"Take a seat…" John offered.  
"Thanks" And I sat down on a stool by the fire.  
"Let me take your coat, Abigail" said Emily.  
"Oh.. Thanks" I replied smiling.  
"No problem." And she took the coat and placed it on the coat stand in the corner of the room.  
"You must miss your parents terribly…" Dr Watson asked me.  
"Yes, sir, I do. Everyday."  
"Do you remember them at all?"  
"It's funny that. The only day I can remember them clearly is the day before they died…"  
"I see."  
I smiled. "So what do you do for a living, Doctor Watson?"  
"I was in the Royal Amry Medical Corps serving in Afgahnistan. I was wounded and invalided home from service. I knew I couldn't afford to live in London on an army pension and I couldn't move because my daughter was here and I didn't want to be away from her and that's when I met Sherlock."  
"So what do you do now?"  
"Well… Sherlock's a… Consulting Detective… and we basically solve murders and crimes in London…"  
"You solve murders?"  
"Yes"  
"Oh I see" Even though I didn't.

"John?" Sherlock called from across the room.  
"Yes?" He replied sighing.  
"Can I borrow your phone? No reception on mine"  
"Yes…. So long as it's not your brother you are planning to text…"  
"Nope"  
Doctor Watson passed his phone over, rather reluctantly, to Sherlock.  
"Thanks"

We spent the rest of the day chatting and talking about ourselves. At around 7pm, Lestrade left to go home to his wife and kids, leaving the Watson's, Mr Holmes and I at 221B Baker Street.  
"Right Emily… Best take you back to your mum's or God only knows what she'll do to me…."  
I stood up as they left. "Goodbye Emily… It was nice to meet you…"  
She waved in reply. I stared after her.  
"Don't worry. She's been like that ever since her mum walked out on John."  
"Oh, I see"  
"Have you enjoyed today?"  
"Yes, thank you very much, Mr Holmes. It has been absolutely fantastic."  
"And if I was to foster you? Would you be happy here, knowing what I do?"  
"Yes I would and I think what you do sounds like a brilliant adventure"  
"Ok then. I'll talk to Mandy when I drop you back."  
I smiled and then yawned. All the talking and meeting new people had worn me out. Sherlock looked at me and smiled, "Come on. I'd better get you back before you fall asleep!"  
I merely nodded for I was so tired.

We took the cab back to the Care Home and it was Greg who answered the door. He was a tall man in his late 40s with balding grey hair and a warming smile.  
"Ah, Abigail, I was wondering why it was so quiet. Hadn't heard you play all day. I missed it."  
"Thanks Greg. Mr Holmes took me out today." I turned to look at him. "Goodbye Mr Holmes and thank you" I reached up, gave him a peck on the cheek and went in.  
"Thank you for taking her out. God knows she needs to be out living her life after all she has been through, bless her."  
"Is Mandy in? I have some urgent business I need to discuss."

Life went on. I was living with Sherlock and John with occasional visits from Emily and Lestrade. I sometimes helped him on cases and one time he took me with him when they had a case in Dartmoor. We all got drugged and started hallucinating we were seeing the gigantic hound. Sherlock even broke into a top secret military base using his brother's identity.  
I have met Mycroft Holmes and his son Mycroft Holmes Jr. They are very odd, cruel and quite funny to around. Sherlock and Mycroft don't get on at all and neither do me and his son. At first, Mycroft refused to believe I was real and that Sherlock had fostered me!  
Mrs Hudson is Sherlock's landlady and is very nice but doesn't like the mess Sherlock makes- which is a lot!

I thought nothing could go wrong but as it happens it did.  
About 6 months ago, Sherlock met someone called Jim Moriarty, on a case. Sherlock thought nothing of him and went on living life normally, we all did. Until one day, 3 months ago.  
John and Sherlock were on a case, I was helping along with Sally, Johnny and Emily. People were starting to doubt Sherlock and whether he was real or not; whether he was a fake.  
Lestrade showed up with an arrest warrant and took him. John punched an officer in the face and was arrested to. We watched from the window as Sherlock and John managed to escape and run off into the night.

John came back and told us they had found something out at Bart's. We went and found Sherlock, Molly and Lestrade all looking round a computer screen. I didn't understand it and was so engrossed in the screen that I never saw Sherlock disappear.  
"Sherlock? What do you make of this?" John asked.  
No reply.  
"Sherlock?"  
"Where the devil is he?" Asked Lestrade.  
"I have no idea"  
Whilst they were talking, I saw that the door to the roof had been left open and I managed to sneak upstairs. There I found Sherlock on the roof tops of Bart's Hospital.  
"Sherlock? What are you doing?"  
"Saving you. Saving all of you"  
"What? What do you mean?"  
"If I die, you live."  
I laughed. "This is crazy"  
"No. Its really not" He walked over to me and crouched down so our eyes were level. "Abigail, you have been wonderful and brilliant and you gave me something to live for. But know you have to leave me to do this, please. I hope one day you'll understand."  
"No…. No you can't do this Sherlock. Please. Don't leave me. You're like my dad and he left and if you leave I'll have nothing Sherlock."  
He laughed. "Oh that isn't true. You'll have John and Lestrade and everyone else you've met."  
I tried to hold back my tears. "But it won't be the same without you… It just won't."  
"Ah… How very touching" Came a deep voice. A man about the same height as John came towards us. "You must be Abigail"  
"And you Moriarty"  
He laughed estatically. "Oh she's good. You have trained her well Sherlock."  
"Let her be Moriarty. You've got me."  
"Leave him alone!" I yelled.  
"Or what?"  
"Whoever takes Sherlock takes my life! But, bad news sir, 'cause guess who! Ha! Except, you you're just talk, talk, talk, it's really very distracting. Could you just shut up a minute because *I* *am* *talking*! Now, the question for the hour is, "Who's got Sherlock?" Answer: I do. Next question: "Who's coming to take him from me?" Come on, look at me Moriarty! No plan, no backup, no weapons worth a damn, oh, and something else I don't have: anything to lose! So, if you're standing there with all your silly little pals and all your silly little guns, and you've got any plans on taking Sherlock tonight, just remember who's standing in your way! Remember every black day he ever stopped you, and then, *and then*, do the smart thing! Let somebody else try first.''  
Moriarty just stood there stunned.  
"Abigail McNeish… Standing up to Jim Moriarty." He said at long last "I love it!"  
"What?"  
"Abigail back down now… It's alright. Thank you"  
"Wha…."  
"Now Abigail!"  
So I had to leave him. But I didn't return to Bart's.  
No.  
I stayed and I watched from behind a fence.  
They chatted calmly and there were a few raised voices. Then it all went quiet.  
BANG  
A gun went off. I rushed over- fearing the worst.  
"Sherlock!"  
"It's Moriarty… He killed himself…."  
"Then you're alright.. You don't need to die…"  
"No. I still have to…"  
I couldn't stop myself…. Tears flowed down my face as I looked at him. The man who gave me my life back, made me a different person.  
"You can't"  
"Listen to me Abigail…. If I don't die now, then you will and Lestrade and John and Mrs Hudson…. Is that what you want?  
I shook my head.  
"Well then."  
"But…"  
"There is no other way Abigail. I'm sorry." He came over and hugged me.  
Sherlock went to the edge, stood on the ledge and pulled out his phone.  
"John… stay there, stay right where you are."  
I could hear John on the street below.  
"Sherlock… What are you doing?"  
"This phone call, it's... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note..."  
"Leave a note when?"  
"Goodbye John…"  
Sherlock pulled the phone away from his ear, tossed it aside and breathed out.  
He jumped.  
"SHERLOCK!" John and I seemed to yell at the same time.  
I ran over to the edge but I was too late. He lay, still, unmoving on the pavement below…  
John had run over but people weren't letting him through…  
I couldn't move.

We visited Sherlock's grave, John, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and I. we visited the man who gave his life so that we might live.  
"Do you mind if we have a minute? I asked Lestrade and Mrs Hudson.  
They shook their heads and walked off leaving us to say goodbye.  
John stood by the grave.  
"You... you told me once that you weren't a hero. Umm, there were times I didn't even think you were human. But let me tell you this, you were the best man, the most human... human being that I've ever known, and no-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, so there. I was so alone, and I owe you so much."  
He went to walk away, but he stopped and turned around.  
"But, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be... dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this."  
By now, tears were flowing down my face. John looked at me, nodded and walked off to meet Lestrade and Mrs Hudson.  
I stood there for a minute; silent.  
"Thanks" I whispered, "Thanks for the best 6 months of my life, thanks for all you did. I just wish that there was more we could have done for you. Goodbye Mr Holmes" And I walked off as well.

I had to live with Watson in Baker Street like normal but it wasn't normal. How could it be? We had mail of course. People offering condolences but mainly people saying he got what he deserved, they believed he was a fraud and had killed himself because of the shame.

About 3 months after his suicide, Lestrade turned up with a huge smile on his face.  
We followed him to Scotland Yard where, sat in Lestrade's office, was….  
"Sherlock?" I gasped.  
John stared.  
I ran in and gave him the biggest hug ever.  
We laughed and laughed, (I cried a lot)  
John came in. I stood back. Then to my surprise, John hit Sherlock round the face!  
"John!"  
"He deserved it… He put me through hell." He paused. "Jesus, Sherlock! What the hell were you thinking?"  
"I know John."  
"Well?"  
"Abigail knows why I did what I did. If I hadn't of died, then you all would have died."  
"I suppose you want me say thank you?"  
"No."  
"Good"  
There was a pause and then the two best mates hugged each other and I swear I saw a tear run down Sherlock's face.

Sherlock turned to me.  
"I have something for you"  
"What?"  
He passed me some papers. I opened them eagerly. I couldn't believe what I was looking at.  
"Adoption Papers?"  
"Yes Abigail."  
"Really"  
"Yes. Welcome to the family, Abigail Holmes!"

THE END


End file.
